


The Break In

by a_q



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Burglary, Crossover, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Investigations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles works as consultant for SHIELD, and when no one is looking, he goes off to rummage through the secrets SHIELD has stored in their different archives. This time he has more company than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Break In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daymarket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daymarket/gifts).



> I played with timelines so that instead Moira recruiting Charles for CIA, Peggy Carter had recruited him for SHIELD much earlier, and that Tony was about same age as Charles (twenty-ish).

”Now, hold the light steady,” Tony said, pulling off the front panel of the electronic lock and exposing the tangle of thin wires inside. Charles had never seen a lock like it, but Tony started to peel the wires like he had done nothing else in his life.

”Are you sure we can get out of there too?” Charles asked, eyeing the heavy steel door. The archive room was located in the basement, at the far end of a long, empty corridor. The air was dry and warm, sound of water sloshing through the pipes overhead. Above them was five stories of regular office floors, or as regular as SHIELD could pretend to be. If they got locked in the archive, they could call for help to get out, though it wasn't the smartest plan. Carter didn't appreciate her team freelancing on her time.

”Trust me, I'm not going to lock myself into a secret SHIELD archive on a Saturday night,” Tony scoffed, his fingers moving in the tangle of wires. ”I like you and all, but I have a date with this really hot chick tonight. Tall, smart, seriously wild imagination... Do you know the type?”

”Since you've been thinking about your 'type' for the last ten minutes, I have to say yes, I do know,” Charles said and rolled his shoulder to keep his bag from slipping, while trying to keep the light steady. ”Look, you don't have to come inside with me, the lock is enough. I'm not sure what this archive contains, I don't have the clearance to access the catalogs. This can take all night.”

“Tall _and_ smart, Charles! Think about the possibilities!”

"I said you don't have to come in with me."

"Yeah, and let you rummage Carter's dirty laundry without me? You are incredibly selfish person Charles, do you know that?"

“Right. Tall and smart, was she? Girl that great, I'm sure she'll find a new date for the evening,” Charles said, shaking the flashlight as the light started to dim. “Would you hurry, please? I don't know how long these batteries will last. It would be better to find some another light source, unless you want to do that in the dark.”

Tony smirked and closed his pocket knife, getting up to his feet. “Do what? This?” He pressed the panel back in place and the door clicked open, releasing waft of cold, dusty air. “You're welcome. And you owe me one.”

There was a short delay, as the light fixtures crackled and lit up with dim, yellow light. Charles stepped over the high threshold, looking around the space. It was much bigger than he had figured. This wasn't even the main archive, the paperwork he had found claimed that this was just a small side storage. At the first glance that didn't sound right. There was at least seven identical rows of steel framed shelving, stretching in the darkness, only part of them numbered. The shelves were filled with anything from big cardboard boxes, neater rows of record boxes, random piles of paper tied together with a piece of string, steel cases, even wood crates.

“This might take some time,” Charles muttered. The flashlight sputtered and died. Charles took fresh batteries from his bag, changing them quickly and screwing the cap back to its place. It took thirty seconds but when he turned around, Tony has vanished. “Tony? Tony!”

“Here! Come look at this! Do you know what they have here?” Tony called from the left corner, pulling away dust sheets covering machines that vaguely resembled typewriters. “Genuine Enigma machines! And this here is a Typex, Mark One! I've seen a picture of this. These babies have seen some action, let me tell you. Think they still work?”

“I don't know. Try not to break anything,” Charles said, though he could feel Tony's mind fluttering along its own, unique routes. “You can stay here if you like, I'll go see what's at the other end.”

Not that he would admit it to Tony, but Charles was glad that he had agreed to tag along. Even if this archive looked desolate, this was still a SHIELD owned building. Charles could handle himself with human guards, but any other type of security would be a problem. Not for Tony. He could influence machines like he could influence people. They made a good team, though Carter liked to complain that they made a bigger mess than the ones they helped to clean. It was mostly show though. She liked them, Charles was sure of it. 

Charles walked on slowly, lighting the boxes crammed on the shelves. There was some codes, some dates but nothing that looked particularly interesting. He had barely reached the end of the first row when he heard the light steps behind him.

“Damn those machines are heavy, I can't steal them. Well, not right now anyway. Do you think Carter would sell them to me?”

“How are you going to bring up the machines without her realizing that you know that she has them? We are not supposed to be here, remember?”

“Right...How about you give her the idea? Plant it in her head or something? You can do that.”

“I could, except I have a healthy sense of self-preservation,” Charles noted. “Her mind is like those shiny fast cars you like to drive. Would you notice if someone messed with the engine?”

“No one messes with my cars,” Tony scoffed.

“My point exactly. No one messes with Carter either,” Charles stopped, looking around again. The row broke when someone had added double shelves along the first row. “If you were a film reel, where would you be?”

“Do you know anything about the reels? Name, date? Year?”

“I have a code of the project, and good guess about the year it might've been filmed. My sister said she was three, four years old when she stayed with Doctor Wexler and his wife. She remembers him filming her playing with dolls and she got dessert if she could replicate the dolls coloring herself.”

“Why is it so important to get these films now? Shield has shown no interest toward her. Or has they?”

“No, but I believe its only because Doctor Wexler's studies about mutation fell to the wayside over his studies about the chemical warfare. That was much more lucrative area during the war,” Charles said, slowing down to look through few boxes marked with W. “Part the reason I agreed to work as a consultant was to get access to these sort of places. I suspect there might have been several projects happening alongside the Super Soldier program, and I want to make sure they left no remnants behind, that's all.”

“Why do you even bother with this?” Tony waved his hand to encompass the dark, dusty corridor. “Just pick the data from some agents head. Or wipe it away, more like it. They can't use information they don't know they have.”

“People aren't computers, Tony,” Charles said. He had tried to make this point with Tony several times, but he didn't want to see his point of view. In fact, Charles knew Tony was working on an artificial intelligence project. It was an interesting attempt, but Charles doubted if that would ever work the way Tony envisioned. “Besides, what's stopping some agent stumbling over these files all over again? They don't even have to break in to get here.”

“I would say it would be a goddamn miracle to find anything relevant from here.”

Charles smirked and turned the flashlight, aiming the beam toward the far edge corner where something gleamed. “Let's look there. Old film reels would be stored in metal cans, wouldn't they?”

“Maybe, depends how big the camera was. If it was filmed with something smaller, like a 16mm camera, the spool could be in carton box.”

“Carton might be easier, I think they would've made some markings on the cases,” Charles said, but before Tony could answer, they heard scratching from the ceiling. It sounded a lot like some animal skittering in the vents. They stopped, looking up.

“Uuh, I hope that's not a rat. I hate rats,” Tony muttered.

Charles squinted, focusing on the source. “No, doesn't feel like a rat.” Charles grabbed Tony's arm and pulled him behind the shelf for cover, shushing him to stay silent.

The scratching quieted and then there was a completely different sound. They watched as the big metal casing covering the vent lowered to the floor as lightly as paper, thudding down in a small puff of dust. Nothing happened for a moment. Charles stretched his abilities, touching who ever was in the vent. The mind of a burglar was pragmatist with dark, heavy undercurrents. Charles didn't doubt for a second that he wouldn't see them as a threat and react accordingly. Tony smacked his shoulder, annoyed that he wouldn't clue him in what was happening. Charles waved him to wait and be quiet.

The burglar came through the vent with feet first, lowering himself down with impressive control and strength. First Charles noticed the black boots with thick rubber soles, quiet in every surfaces. Then long, lean legs, clad in tight black trousers that certainly accented the shape of his body. Even in this dim lighting, the sight was rather stunning. Then came the narrow waist, the muscular torso and finally the burglar lowered himself completely down, with the same elegant and light motion he had dropped the heavy metal plate. He was either a telekinetic or controlled air, metal or some other substance. As far as Charles could tell, he could've been the lord of the dust flecks, the sense of control was so integrated in his mind that there was no telling where it was aimed.

Tony leaned closer to get a better look. “Now what?” Tony whispered, his breath tickling his ear. Charles shook his head lightly, not turning his eyes from the burglar. He was stunning, and Charles wasn't sure if the effect came from his build or from his powers.

The burglar made a quick movement with his hand, and a small black bag dropped from the vent, landing silently to his waiting hand. The burglar picked a flashlight from his gear, tossing the bag strap across his chest so the bag fitted flatly against his back. He lighted the flashlight, shielding the tiny stream of light with his hand to keep it as innocuous as possible.

Tony nudged him again, his mind prickling with impatience. That was nothing new, so Charles ignored that and slapped his hand away from his arm. Tony scoffed and shook his head, thinking loudly _'there's easier ways to get laid you know'_

Charles ignored that too and waited until the small light source moved further down the lane before slipping after him, checking the numbers on the shelves as they passed them. The burglar moved toward the smaller numbers, which meant he was looking for older information, maybe something pre-war. The light stopped, and Charles did the same, Tony bumping to his shoulder from the sudden stop. The burglar had knelt in the middle of the row, peering under one of the shelves.

“What is he doing?” Charles whispered and Tony shrugged. “Should we stop him?”

“From what? Stealing stuff we want to steal?”

“Good point.”

Suddenly something swooshed past his head, dinged on the metal shelf and bounced back across the air to the burglar's hand.

“I can hear you talking,” he called. “Come out or the next one hits!” His voice was tense, but his mind was tenser, full of jagged edges. Charles could feel the real threat of violence in him. Charles waved Tony to stay put and walked forward himself, holding his hands up as a sign of surrender.

“Calm down, I'm not armed,” he said. Up close he was even more stunning. Charles felt the little excited flutter in the bottom of his stomach. Handsome mutant, dropping from the sky to his lap. It was like a dream had turned to flesh in front of his eyes, and Charles could feel Tony's amusement. He knew his type just as well Charles knew Tony's.

“Who are you?” the burglar asked, staring back at him as intently as Charles was staring at him.

“I'm Charles Xavier and I'm here to steal from SHIELD. Just like you,” he said. 

"And your friend?"

"Who, me? Yeah, stealing too," Tony called and walked closer, stopping next to Charles. "Impressive skills you have. Mutant, right? Charles here is one too, you know. Two peas in a pod and all that."

Charles was about to say that Tony lied, when he saw the flash of interest in the burglar's eyes. "He wants the enigma machine, I'm after some film reels. What are you after?"

"A name, a location," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "Are you suggesting we should work together?"

"Well, why not? Doesn't sound like our interests overlap," Charles said. "We've looked through most of this place already, so, we can help. If you like?" It was a small white lie, but really, they couldn't leave the man here alone, digging through crate after crate of SHIELD data. 

"Fine. I need all the files from 1940. Which way?"

Charles pointed randomly at the back wall. It couldn't be much worse guess than any other. The man gave them a suspicious look but he turned and strode in the direction he had pointed. 

Charles followed after him, Tony at his heels.

"I told you so, tall and smart, that's the best type," Tony muttered with an appreciative tone. "Your Saturday night is looking much better than mine."

Charles turned to smirk at him. "I didn't force you to stay, remember? I can handle this."

"Hah, and keep me from seeing Carter's face when you try to explain her why you let some guy go through SHIELD confidential files. Honestly, that selfishness issue of yours, try to work on that?"

"I'll try, but I can't promise anything."


End file.
